


∞

by RollyPratt



Category: Life with Derek
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, F/M, Mostly fluff?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:33:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23813860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RollyPratt/pseuds/RollyPratt
Summary: Their first kiss is… nothing like Derek would have planned - if he were in the habit of planning this sort of thing.
Relationships: Casey McDonald/Derek Venturi
Comments: 33
Kudos: 207





	∞

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to [UntoldGalaxies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/UntoldGalaxies) for the beta! Where have you been all my life?

Their first kiss is… nothing like Derek would have planned - if he were in the habit of planning this sort of thing.

It’s late into the party, and _maybe_ he’s been drinking a little, but he knows Casey hasn’t. Her eyes are big, round and sparkling in the moonlight; her lips are plucked in a soft pout and he just can’t resist. He’s leaning in before his brain can catch up to what he’s doing, and pressing his mouth to hers softly.

He swallows her gasp, pressing forward to taste her deeper, his eyes shut tight while his tongue seeks out for hers. Her hands come up to cup his cheeks gently, holding his face close when he comes up for air.

She’s looking at him curiously, trying to figure out what’s going on in his head. Hell, he doesn’t even know himself.

"Why’d you do that?" Casey whispers, like she’s scared of saying it out loud.

"Uhhhhh…" is what comes out of his mouth.

_Smooth_ , he knows, but his mind is kinda foggy and he really doesn’t know why he did it beyond the fact that he _wanted_ to.

He hesitates long enough that her shoulders drop, and he feels the cold night air for the first time when her fingers leave his skin. He can’t really concentrate on her eyes, his own wandering over her face and down to the plunging neckline that's been taunting him all night. He vaguely remembers reaching for a new shot every time she inadvertently flaunted it in his face.

"You've been drinking," she states factually, announcing it as the reason for his sudden actions. Maybe she's right.

"I've been meaning to do it before…" his mouth says the words without consulting him, but as they pass his lips he knows they're true.

And he doesn't know why he says it like he's trying to comfort her about it, because she hasn't really reacted one way or another, so maybe it’s more reassuring for her to think that he was just drunk and didn't realize what he was doing.

He does, though. He fully realizes what happened, if a little after the fact. There's probably going to be a freak out and some yelling at some point, but that's _Sober Derek_ 's problem.

Right now, there's Casey sitting next to him at the bottom of the stairs in front of a stranger's house, their knees are brushing each other as she squirms, licking her lips like she's deciding between freaking out or letting him down easy.

She finally decides on the latter. "It's probably not a good idea," Casey says, head dropping down to look at her fingers clasped in her lap.

There's this sudden urge to fight it, and a tug at the bottom of his stomach that feels like all the contents are about to pour out.

"Why not," Derek says, leaning close again to try and catch her eyes.

She looks up, surprised, her big eyes rounder than usual, confusion etched all over her face. She lets out a breath as she looks down at his lips and leans forward slowly.

They're about to kiss again, he wants it to happen, doesn't see why it shouldn't. There's a force pulling him towards her, it's reaching down deep inside of him, wrapping around his heart and squeezing.

Her lips are brushing his when he realizes the tugging in his stomach isn't about the kiss so much as all the rum and coke he's been drinking. He's going to be sick.

He has enough sense to move before retching on her shoes and ruining his chance of ever getting near her again, throwing himself on all fours in the grass as he throws up.

“Oh my God, Derek!” she gasps, and she’s at his side within seconds. “How much did you drink?!” she accuses, the sharpness of her tone in complete opposition with the gentleness of the hand stroking his back.

“I dunno,” he groans, before a fresh batch of vomit heaves to the surface. He’s surprisingly aware of Casey shaking her head in disapproval and he might feel bad if his insides weren’t trying to get out at the same time.

“I’ll get you some water,” she sighs. Her figure disappears back into the crowded house where he’s just realized there’s music coming from. He can’t really stand it, to be honest, every beat is like a hammer hitting against his skull and it fucking _sucks_.

She takes a while to come back. By the time she’s out again, his face is pressed hard into the ground and he thinks he’s about to pass out. Two pairs of arms are hauling him up and shoving him into the back of the Prince. She’s enlisted Sam and Ralph to help, but he only sees her.

They’re alone in the car, and he’s falling halfway off the bench, while she’s in the driver’s seat, looking back at him with what’s probably disappointment in her eyes. She pushes a bottle of water into his weak ass hand. “Drink, I’ll drive us home.”

It’s a thirty minute ride home, he’s not sure he can survive it.

“I’m sorry,” Derek moans. He really is, it was a pretty good moment until his stomach had to go and ruin it.

“Save it for George,” Casey snaps. “He’ll be pissed if he sees you like this.”

“Not my first rodeo.”

“Right.”

The way his head is squeezed into the back seat, he can’t tell the look on her face now that she has turned towards the road. All he can see are her hands gripping the steering wheel. Even with that little information, he can tell she’s angry. She gives off those pissed off vibes so thick he can practically touch them.

“I meant sorry about ruining the moment.”

“Moment? What are you talking about?”

“That thing we did with our mouths.”

“It’s fine,’’ she attempts to be cheerful. “You were pretty out of it, it didn’t mean anything. So nothing’s ruined, you can just forget about it.”

He wants to accept her answer at face value, but it sounds so… un-Casey like. She could at least throw in some outrage for his benefit.

“And here I thought you’d be just devastated,” he deadpans. It’s not really bitter. It’s not like he’s disappointed that she dismisses his drunken kissing as nothing but… well, drunken kissing.

“Please,” she scoffs. “Like it was anything memorable.”

“I take offense to that,” he says, leaning forward between the seats to poke her shoulder. “No girl is indifferent to kissing Derek Venturi.”

Casey rolls her eyes. “You call that kissing.”

Derek huffs, legitimately offended. “Excuse me?”

She shrugs and maintains her gaze focused on the road. “It was nothing to write home about.”

Squinting, he glowers at the side of her head, observing that her jaw is clenched tight and her breathing is a bit raspy. Those are not the usual signs of indifference. Those are usually signs that she’s about to jump on him to make a grab for the remote or take a swing to hit him behind the head.

“Will you get back in your seat,” she shoots after he’s been staring a while. “Your breath stinks.”

She punctuates her statement with a shove of her elbow and he backs away, anxious about getting hit in the stomach so soon after getting sick and having to replace the upholstery... _again_.

He lets himself fall into the back seat, glad to find that his mind is clearing up enough to formulate an acceptable thought, enough to consider payback for such an attack on his character.

They’re home soon enough, and he’s keeping himself upright without wobbling too much. Casey has her bitchy face on and her arms crossed over her chest, but she’s following him closely up the stairs until she’s sure he’s safe and sound in his room. Luckily, everyone else is fast asleep.

“Thanks for the ride, Case,” Derek mutters and winks for no reason as he turns towards his bed, pulling his shirt above his head. He thinks he hears her soft squeak before she’s rushing to her own room, closing her door quietly, but _pointedly._

Chuckling, he makes his way to the washroom to brush his teeth, observing the condition of his looks in the mirror. Not bad, actually. His hair is doubly messy, but in a good way, and he thinks he’s making the red rimmed eyes work for him.

Slipping on an easy smile, he turns to get back to his room but stops short before considering Casey’s closed door. He’s still feeling like shit. The pit of his stomach is still soft and feeble. But he can’t stop picturing that look she’d given him before the kiss, the twinkle in her eye, her lips softly parted, and the way he could feel his blood rush when he was touching her.

There’s no way she’s completely unaffected when he’s crawling out of his skin like this.

He knocks softly, but pushes the door open when she doesn’t respond. She looks up from her book with a look of pure annoyance. “Aren’t you passed out already?”

“Takes more than that to bring me down,” Derek says after cautiously closing the door behind him, leisurely making his way to the side of her bed. He catches how she swallows harshly while looking at his chest when he sits down next to her, one arm draped over her legs to rest on her other side.

“What?” Casey spits, sitting straighter in an attempt to get away from him. Too bad he’s just not going to let that happen.

“I think there’s been a misunderstanding about my person that I would very much like to clear up,” he declares pointedly, leaning forward to bring their faces closer in challenge.

“If you’re worried that I’ll tell everyone at school and damage your reputation,’’ she says tensely, “let me assure you that you did that on your own. Everyone already saw you puking your guts out at the party.”

Poking his cheek with his tongue in consideration, he decides to ignore that, knowing that getting shit faced at a party will just improve his rep. “I wasn’t talking about that, _Princess,_ I was talking about those allegations you made about me being a bad kisser.”

She stares, her jaw going slack in astonishment. “Seriously, Derek?”

“I can’t risk something like that getting out, Case,’’ he says casually. “What would the ladies think?”

“That you’re an egotistical jerk?”

“No. They’d be disappointed. You wouldn’t want to disappoint the whole female population, would you?”

Casey makes a barf face, to which Derek smirks. “Like I would even tell anyone about it. Your drunken mistake will remain safe.”

“Yeah, but see,” he persists, sliding closer towards her, getting a whiff of her cherry blossom body spray. “It’s not just about the public image. It’s the principle of the thing.”

"The principle…" Casey repeats dumbly.

"It's like if you get a bad grade," Derek explains, and watches Casey's eyes grow wide. It totally makes sense in his head. "It doesn't impact your overall average, but you still gotta grub for those extra points."

"And what does it have to do with you being a bad kisser?"

He shrugs, trying to look as casual as possible. "I want my extra points."

"You… want me to review your grade?" She asks apprehensively.

When she says it like that… a slow grin appears on his face. "Something like that."

Her eyes drift quickly towards his mouth before looking at him with dread. "Are you serious?"

"Well, maybe more like a do over."

"Oh, that's…" She's embarrassed, it's kind of a nice sight.

"Better?" He says, lowering his face even closer and letting his eyes flutter shut until he feels her breath on his face.

She doesn't move.

He's about to close the distance between them when she pushes him away, abruptly.

"I just watched you puke your guts out and you think I'm going to kiss you?" Casey says suddenly, disgusted.

Derek chuckles sarcastically. "I brushed my teeth," he says, grinning.

"Even so," she shakes herself. "I have that image burned in my brain now."

"So you won't kiss me because you saw me puke."

"Exactly."

"That's the only thing standing between my lips - and yours."

"Exact- wait no!"

Encouraged by her half-confession, he surges forward, capturing her lips in a kiss before she can protest some more, one hand at the back of her head to pull her face to his.

Her hands are grabbing at his shoulders. "De-rek!" her protest against his mouth completely discredited by the desperate moan following it. 

His fingers get stuck in some knots in her hair, their teeth clash when she opens her mouth, and his head is still spinning, but it's a darn great kiss all the same. It's like their tongues are magnets attracted to each other, sticking hard and heavy as they roll around.

Her hands leave his shoulders to roam over his back and he feels a low growl forming in his throat. The touch of her fingertips is electrifying, tickling down his spine. It spurs him on.

Wrapping his free hand around her ankle, he pulls, not hard enough to actually move her, but enough to get his message across so that she's scurrying down on the bed and lying underneath him.

For someone who's so unaffected, she answers pretty eagerly.

There's no time to comment on it though, because he gets the feeling that if he lets go of her mouth for a millisecond, she'll remember how to think and put an end to whatever they're doing.

He's climbing on top of her kind of desperately, it would be embarrassing if she wasn't grabbing at him just as frantically. She has one hand in his hair and the other is scratching down his back, which has him shivering instantly.

He has to shove his knee between hers to push them apart, but when he settles comfortably between her thighs, she sighs, the sound delightful to his ears.

Somehow, he disentangles his fingers from the knots in her hair, allowing his hand to roam free down her form until he reaches the top of her thigh and discovers soft skin. It's enough for him to unlatch his mouth from hers so he can look down as his palm explores new territory.

She's wearing a cute night dress, one he's never seen her wear before. His hand brushing up and down her thigh is raising goosebumps in its wake and it's a bit entrancing. He lets his hand wander higher, lifting up the fabric as he reaches underneath to stroke her side up to her waist, the hem of the dress bunching up to reveal the matching underwear.

Her hand is wrapping around his forearm to stop his movements, and he looks up into her flushed face. "Derek…" Casey whispers, almost out of breath. "Slow down."

He can see her eyes are just as filled with lust as he feels, but there's something else there; fear, apprehension. He frowns and removes his hand from her body to reach up and cup her cheek. "What are you scared of?"

"Um…" she laughs nervously. "That we're going too fast? That you're only doing this because you're drunk?” she pauses, a deep blush flooding her cheeks and spreading down her neck. “That I'm enjoying this more than I should? Take your pick."

She's not meeting his eyes, rather looking off to the side, while her fingers fidget with the comforter underneath them. She looks so much younger like this, innocent and vulnerable.

"I'm not that drunk anymore," Derek decides to say, his fingers leaving her face to play with the tiny strap of her dress, feeling like there's not much he can say about her other worries. Even with his lowered faculties, he can admit that he got caught up _a little bit_. "We can stop."

"Really?" She looks surprised, like she was expecting him to insist or something, like she's not used to being listened to. He's temporarily distracted by the image of his hands ripping all of her ex-boyfriend's throats out.

She's looking at him expectantly. "Hm?" he has to ask, because he missed the last thing she said while he was busy mentally assassinating Max, and half of the football team - for good measure. 

"I said are you sure that’s okay?"

That also kind of throws him for a loop, because he would have expected to be the one to ask her that. "Yeah," he says easily, lifting himself up on his arms above her. "I uh… I should be sleeping it off anyway."

She nods silently, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "What?" he asks.

"I've reviewed your mark, I think I'm willing to give you the passing grade after all," she says, biting her lip coyly.

"I'll take what I can get," he says with a smirk, leaning down for a quick kiss before removing himself from her bed.

"Is it-" she starts saying before he reaches the doorknob. He turns, waiting for her to finish. "Was it just a drunk thing? Just for fun?"

She shrugs one shoulder, making it sound like it's no big deal, but he knows her better than that.

He smiles, pulling the door open. "No," he says simply.

* * *

In true Casey fashion, she confronts him about it - though not before allowing a few days of denial in between.

Derek goes on as if nothing happened during that grace period, following her lead and knowing fairly well that she will eventually corner him and make him spill all of his deepest, darkest secrets.

It's three days later, Monday after dinner, when she decides to barge into his room with a look of determination on her face.

He looks up casually from his graphic novel. "Can I help you?"

"We need to talk," she says snootily, lifting her nose up in the air like she's made some important decree, and rounds his desk to sit down in his chair.

Raising an eyebrow pointedly at her, he urges her to continue.

She's less sure of herself when she goes on. "Do you… remember Friday night?"

"The party?"

"Yes," she looks on hopefully.

"Nah," he waves his hand, "I was _way_ drunk."

He returns to his comic and lets the silence simmer between them, waiting for the gasps of outrage and indignation.

Casey remains resolutely quiet, prompting Derek to look up again to gauge her reaction. She's still looking in his general direction, except she's lost all the bravado she'd built up over the weekend, now subdued and looking somewhat disappointed.

"You don't remember anything at all?" she probes gently.

"I heard you drove me home and tucked me in. Thanks," he encourages with a wink.

She's still uncharacteristically not responding to his teasing. "Oh, right," she mutters, and looks down at her hands. "Don't mention it."

He takes pity on her. "Well I had to. ‘Cause it's the _principle of the thing_ , you know?"

She looks up through her lashes, frowning. "So you _do_ remember."

"Remember what?" he smirks, knowing it always gets a rise out of her.

"Clearly nothing worth mentioning," she snaps, getting up from her seat. Her cheeks are turning that deep pink color that he likes.

"Aw, come on. You gave it a pass," he teases.

"You obviously don't want to talk about this, so you can just resume your carefree existence in peace," she says and stomps towards the door.

Rolling his eyes, he gives up on the charade, reaching out to grab her waist and pull her back with him as he sits on the bed. She wiggles in his lap, trying to get out of his embrace.

"Look, you're right, Case," he says, and somehow the words calm her down. She stops wiggling to look at him. "I don't wanna _talk_."

There's that look of understanding before she follows his gaze to her lips, and she opens her mouth to say something, providing him with an excellent opportunity to interrupt her with a perfectly timed kiss.

His right hand flattens on her lower back, holding her in place, while his left instantly makes its way into her hair, tugging lightly on the long brown strands. He likes the way she wears her hair straight these days.

She catches herself with her hands against his face, the tips of her fingers pressing into his cheeks. "Not talking is okay," she says softly, smiling against his lips.

* * *

There’s a short but intense period of pure bliss, during which she allows him to drag her to secret make out corners at school. It’s usually during lunch, and she pretends to worry about disappearing for the most part of an hour every day, and what will people _think._

It doesn’t take much to shut her up. She falls silent the second his lips brush the skin of her neck, sighing in sweet surrender.

She hooks her hands at the back of his neck, careful about messing up his hair while they’re at school. Thankful for her consideration, he rewards her by sucking on that spot she likes just under her ear, that makes her fingers tense up and her nails dig into his skin.

He touches everywhere he can, practically bawls in euphoria when she allows his hands to wander underneath her shirt, skimming against the warm expanse of her back, fingers sliding over her smooth stomach.

She’s breathing harshly in his ear and he hears her whisper his name so low he wouldn’t have noticed if all of his senses weren’t focused solely on her. He makes his way slowly back to her mouth, places his own on top just to try and taste his name on her lips. Every slide of her tongue against his is delicious torture.

It always ends the same way, she pushes him off of her before the hour runs out with a made up excuse about homework under her breath. He knows she’s done all of her homework the night before because he’d barged in at the right moment to catch her putting her books away. 

He calls her out on it every time, and she attempts to distract him by pulling him back into a searing kiss. It almost works. 

Nevertheless, he lets her go, watches her slip out of their dark alcove and back into the lit up corridor.

* * *

It surprisingly lasts a full month before she panics.

She’s straddling him on his bed, pressing her body down on his heavily as they make out. He likes it when she gets on top, one might say obviously, but she gets really eager then, jumping on top of him and molding her body to his like she can’t get enough of him. It’s a passionate side of her he doesn’t get to see often, and he savours all of it.

Her hips are rolling slowly back and forth. She's probably not even aware she's doing it or the torturous effect it has on him, though if she keeps it up it will soon be made unmistakably obvious.

He's about to roll them around, maybe give her some of her own medicine, when there's a knock on the door and it opens without further warning. She's so startled that she falls on the floor next to the bed with a squeak. He winces, turning to welcome George while praying desperately that his father didn't see or hear anything.

"Hey, G. What's up?" Derek says unconvincingly, but George doesn't seem to pick up on it.

"Hey Derek," George says easily, passing a hand through his hair. "I was just wondering if you could drop Edwin and Lizzie off to school tomorrow? I have to get to court early."

"Um, sure," Derek shrugs, shifting to cover his lower body in a way that won't make the obvious… well, _obvious._

George nods. "Thanks," he says, turning to close the door, and pauses to poke his head back in. "I know you turn eighteen soon, but the usual curfew for visitors still applies, Derek. Tell your friend?"

He leaves with a sharp look as Derek offers his usual charming smirk. When they're alone again, Derek turns to look at Casey, still sprawled on the floor, frozen in shock.

"Comfortable?" Derek quips.

Her eyes are bugging out of their sockets. "He knew I was here," Casey stage-whispers, as if George could still hear her.

"Technically, he doesn't know it was _you_ ," Derek offers helpfully.

She remains unconvinced as she stays on the floor, looking up at his ceiling while probably contemplating giving herself a brain aneurysm. He just can't stand it.

"Will you get back up here?" he asks in irritation, patting the empty spot next to him. "You can keep having your panic attack on the bed."

"I like it here," she says. He rolls his eyes. 

“Can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em,” he mutters, and rolls over, dropping next to her on the floor. “It’s safe now, Dad’s gone.”

“But it’s not safe, Derek,” she says, looking at him. “We’ll always be this close to getting caught, we can’t sneak around forever.”

Okay, sure, he knows this. But he still thought he could get a few more weeks out of it.

“So… what?” he asks slowly.

Casey sighs, turning her head the other way. It makes him feel a little shitty that she’d rather look at the dirty socks and dust bunnies under his bed than at him. “We need to stop, Derek.”

“Stop?” he asks, a bit too anxiously for his taste, but surely she doesn’t actually want to stop. He never intended to get so wrapped up in - whatever this is. But it feels good. They’re having a good time. How can she talk about stopping right now?

“It’s not like it will be hard for you, or anything,” she says, a soft bite to her tone like she’s accusing him of something. “It’s not like it means anything.”

It does, though. He doesn’t know _what_ it means, but it means _something_. And he doesn’t like admitting that he has any kind of emotional intuition, but he’s not completely clueless either. He can tell that she’s not entirely convinced; she just left the hot potato in his hands, waiting to see if he’ll drop it or not.

The problem is, they’re the only two people playing, and there’s nothing left for him to do but pass it along.

“What if it does?” he hears himself say, not sounding entirely desperate.

She’s still staring at his dust bunnies when she frowns, but shakes her head slightly. “We still have to stop.”

She sits up and looks down at him, pulling off a pretty decent look of determination, considering she’s breaking up with him while they’re lying on the _floor_ , of all places. He always knew she was a crazy girl, too bad he’s just too stubborn to admit that he’s crazy too.

See the thing is, he gave it _one_ try, and he _would_ normally be the kind of guy to give it another shot, try his luck and pursue what he wants. It’s just that this time, he’s not quite as confident that he’ll _get it_ , and he doesn’t trust that he won’t embarrass himself in the long run.

He sits up, propping one arm on his knee. “Fine,” he says, giving it a nonchalant shrug for good measure. They’re eye level like this, their faces close enough that he could touch her nose with a flick of his tongue, but he suppresses that impulse, holding her gaze instead as he leans in closer, satisfied when her breath hitches a little. “So back to normal, then?”

“Yeah,” she whispers under her breath, her eyes trained on his lips.

“Great,” he says, shaking himself as he gets back to his feet and makes his way to his desk chair. “Now get out of my room.”

She huffs as she gets back up, pulling on the hem of her shirt that’s riding up. “You don’t have to be an insensitive jerk about it.”

He spares her a glance and a smug smile. “We said back to normal, right?”

“Fine,” she sighs, and stomps out of his room. “But remember,” she says over her shoulder before the door closes, “two can play at that game.”

* * *

“I didn’t know they invited losers to this party,” Derek says, leaning in close to her ear. She tenses the second she senses him there.

They’re at a party again, except this time he’s practically sober. When he'd spotted her, leaning against the wall in a corner, she was sipping at the drink in her red solo cup and looking around awkwardly, eyeing the bathroom door at the end of the corridor with an impatient frown on her face. He'd figured she was waiting on Emily to return.

It was the first time she was alone all night, so he took this as his chance to approach her.

Not that he needs to justify this, but he’s not looking for a rerun of last time or anything, he doesn’t like looking back or going in circles. But just because they “broke up” doesn’t mean he has to stop pulling her pigtails.

“Funny,” Casey says, straight faced. “And here I thought they didn't invite third graders.”

“I’m too old to be a third grader.”

“Could have fooled me.”

“I’m also too tall,” Derek continues, placing a hand on the wall next to her head. “And I’ve got way more _experience_ than a third grader.”

She rolls her eyes and looks away, ignoring him.

“You should know,” he adds suggestively, eager to get her attention back on him. Even when she’s annoyed, her big blue eyes sparkle when she looks at him, and he’s still a sucker for those.

She pins him with a death glare. “Is there a reason you’re here, other than to annoy me?”

He sticks his tongue into his cheek, pretty pleased with himself. “I’m giving everyone the opportunity to bask in my presence.”

“Wow,” she says flatly, “consider me basked. You can leave now.”

"Don't sound so cheerful, Case. Where's your Christmas spirit?"

This time her whole head moves with the roll of her eyes, and it's almost gratifying to know he can still instigate that level of exasperation.

"Must have gotten crushed when you barged in with your giant _ego_ ," she says.

He knows he's grinning, and he knows it's getting under her skin.

"Why, Casey, I didn't know you felt that way about me," Derek drawls sarcastically.

Bantering with Casey might just be one of his favourite things to do. It gets his heart racing, his blood pumping, and his extremities tingling. It's a thrill he can never get enough of, even when she certainly seems to have had enough of _him_.

"I don't feel any way about you besides the urge to throttle you in your sleep," she seethes, and lets a huffing breath out through her nose. It tickles his cheek, drawing his attention to the fact that she's suddenly right in his face and they're inches away from kissing distance.

He must have been staring at her mouth, because she realizes the same thing, her eyes widening in surprise as she takes a step back.

Instinctively, he takes a step forward to maintain the proximity.

"Anyway," she blurts quickly, backing away once more, "Em must be looking for me."

"Really?" he says, turning his head to scour the crowd quickly, after catching a glimpse of the open bathroom door. "Because it kind of looks like she's busy." 

Casey follows his gaze to where Emily is flirting heavily with Mark from his hockey team, and balks in indignation.

"W-well," she stammers, "I have to go… get another drink!"

She flees, leaving a half empty cup behind. He stares at it for a bit, contemplating the meaning behind her reaction, before dragging his eyes in the direction she disappeared in.

It's a split second decision, but he goes after her, passing the football guys in the kitchen and following the hallway, down one corner.

He finds her pressed against the wall, with her eyes shut tight and a frown on her face. The floorboards crack under his step, causing her eyes to snap open.

She turns as soon as she sees him, but he rushes to block her path, grabbing onto the doorway behind her and trapping her between his arms.

"De-rek," she objects softly.

"Ca-sey," he says, using his soothing voice that never fails to placate her.

She sighs, letting her shoulders slump as she relaxes against the doorframe. "What do you want, Derek?"

He backs off, now certain that she won't run off again, and pushes his hands into his jean pockets. "I dunno, I just…" he trails off.

So, maybe the prospect of kissing her again after almost two months has stirred up some shit in him. He does denial pretty well, but he's getting tired of ignoring the simple fact that he just wants to _be with her_.

"You can't do this, Derek," she says scornfully.

"Do what?" he asks with a jerk of his shoulders.

"This," she gesticulates towards his chest.

"Like, exist?"

"Like coming on to me at a party, and being all flirty and charming, and flaunting your..." she makes another circle motion encompassing his whole body.

He smirks at that. "My hot bod?"

She groans and closes her eyes, throwing her head back in frustration. "You're so annoying."

"You ain't such a delight either, Princess."

Her eyes open and she slumps further. "You've got to be kidding," she mutters.

"No, I swear."

She frowns at him curiously. "Not you. Look," she says, pointing up.

He looks up to catch sight of the evergreen leaves of the branch hanging from the top of the doorframe. _Mistletoe_.

"You've got to be kidding," he says.

"My thoughts exactly," she says, he can barely see her shifting nervously out of his field of vision.

When he looks back down, she's blushing fiercely, her arms wrapped around her middle.

"We don't have to…" she says.

"Only if you want…" he says, brushing the tip of his nose anxiously.

"I mean, if you want to…"

"No-no pressure."

"I want to."

"Me too."

She pulls him down at full force, crashing their mouths together wildly. She's on her tippy toes, holding onto his face, and he wraps both arms around her waist, holding her to him tightly as she threatens to lose her balance. He feels her shift her weight onto him and he can picture her doing that foot-pop thing she thinks is so romantic.

Hell, he's about to swoon any second. Their lips are locked together and he can't breathe, doesn't want to because that would mean he has to stop kissing her, and he really doesn't want to stop.

He won't admit to himself that he's been pining, that would be crazy, but he _has_ been living in anticipation of the next kiss, craving her attention and her touch.

Her lips are hot and soft, and she tastes a little like beer, but his mind is stuck on that sweet mango lip gloss that used to drive him insane, and it's really no surprise that he's getting lost so deeply into her, considering.

She's the first one to pull away, just slightly, gasping for air like she just surfaced out of water.

"Merry Christmas," she says, panting, and the smile that forms on her lips lights up her face brighter than a Christmas tree.

This is the exact moment he knows he has been successfully whipped, because he realizes that he wants her to smile at him like that all the time.

* * *

They try to do it better this time, and at least _acknowledge_ that they're dating, but it still startles them both the first time it comes up.

Derek saunters into Casey's room that evening, completely unprepared.

_Flop_.

Peeling the shirt off his head, he turns incredulously towards Casey to find her emptying the contents of her closet, examining every item before throwing them over her shoulder dismissively.

"Uh, what's with the new decor?" he asks, looking around for the floor hidden under her clothes.

She jumps, pressing a hand to her heart as she turns around. "Oh my God, you scared me."

He shrugs and makes his way to her bed, pushing aside a pile of t-shirts so he can sit down. "What's all this?"

"I don't have anything to wear tomorrow," she wails.

"Define _anything_?"

"There's nothing that fits the new look I'm going for," she says, sighing as she returns to her closet, reaching into the dark depths.

"Is this a ' _new year, new me_ ' kind of thing?" he asks mockingly. _Girls_.

"Yes. One of my resolutions this year is to rework my image."

"Why?"

"Because, everything's different. I feel different."

"How so?"

"Well," she starts, coming back with a fuzzy pink sweater in her hands. "It's the last semester before we graduate, I'm going to turn eighteen and be allowed to _vote_ , I have a _boyfriend_ , and I don't feel that my style is reflecting the person I want to be."

She stops, pouting in his direction, seeking some type of approval from him. Except, he's still stuck on one word.

"Boyfriend, huh?"

"I-I mean," she sputters, "not _boyfriend_ boyfriend, but we… we're seeing each other, or something, and making out a lot, and-and that's _something_ , so I guess that makes us… something?"

Her face is an adorable shade of pink, her features knotted in a mix of embarrassment and expectation, while she absent-mindedly plays with the fluff on her sweater.

His heart is going to burst.

“Yeah, I guess I can be your boyfriend?” he says, smiling teasingly. “Or something,” he adds, for good measure.

She breaks into a huge smile, and looks down shyly at her fluffy sweater. As if seeing it for the first time, she frowns. “ _That’s_ not the look I’m going for.”

And just like that, the spell is broken.

Getting up, he walks up to her, taking the stupid fluffy thing from her hands. “What _are_ you going for?”

“I don’t know, more… daring? Like, not _slutty_ , but _audacious_.”

“Huh… so that’ll be _‘Good Girl Gone Bad’_ then?” he says, looking around until he spots a patch of red. He pulls the top out from a pile and holds it out to her. It’s not his favourite shirt of hers because he doesn’t notice that kind of thing or whatever.

She takes it. “This?”

“Yeah,” he nods earnestly.

“I guess I can try it on,” she hesitates.

“You should.”

“Will you turn around?”

Derek groans and reaches out for her waist, trying for his most charming smile. “If I can’t oggle my _girlfriend_ , then who can?”

She considers this, trying to hide her pleased smile as she bites her bottom lip. “Or you can turn around so you don’t get kicked in the groin.”

“Good point,” he agrees, and turns around.

* * *

Casey reads on the couch and Derek watches hockey, when he reaches out and grabs her hand. She looks up and smiles softly at him before returning to her book.

It’s kinda crazy they haven’t gotten caught yet, because they’re doing this cutesy shit all the time and barely bother to hide it.

Heavy footsteps thunder down the stairs and Edwin sits on the couch next to Casey within seconds. Derek lazily untangles their hands, pushing himself off the chair.

“Hey Ed, want the chair?” he drawls nonchalantly.

Edwin looks at him like he’s grown a second head. He knows that Casey is also giving him an intense look, he can see the _cut it off_ motions she's making at his back as he stares Edwin down.

“Yeah, bro,” Edwin says, chuckling anxiously.

Once Edwin has settled carefully into the chair, Derek drops on the couch, on the opposite end.

“Mind sharing the blanket with your favourite brother, Case?” he quips, pulling on the blanket covering her feet.

She gives him _a look_ , but she also tangles her feet with his under the blanket, so he just smiles at her, knowing that he’s won.

* * *

They break up for like twenty minutes on Valentine’s Day, and Derek doesn’t think it counts, but he knows that Casey counted every single second of it, and is removing that time from the relationship clock - that she was just _bound_ to have - calculating every step of their relationship on it.

He’s still got the smirk on his face when he turns from the cute girls at his table and spots her at the entrance of Smelly Nelly’s a few minutes before the end of his shift.

“Hey, you,” he directs his charm towards her, happy to see her. It… doesn’t seem mutual, though.

“Is this what you do all day?” she seethes.

“Um, waiting tables? Yeah,” he deadpans as he gets closer to her.

“And you just _have_ to flirt with every girl that comes in, is that it?”

He groans, realizing that she probably caught part of his show to the girls at the previous table. He closes his eyes and cracks his neck. “It’s how I get good tips.”

“Oh, right. If this is about your stupid ‘no girlfriend on Valentine’s Day’ rule, don’t bother. Maybe one of your _customers_ will go on a date with you tonight, because I’m _out_.”

She’s gone before he can put a word in, and his teeth hurt from his jaw being locked too tight. He can’t go after her because he has to clean up before leaving the floor to the waitress working the evening shift.

When he’s out twenty minutes later, she’s waiting for him, wrapped tightly into her winter coat and scarf, leaning against the wall.

He stops in front of her, arms crossed over his chest.

She smiles shyly. “I’m sorry?”

“I don’t actually flirt to get dates,” he says, just to put it out there.

“I know,” she says softly.

He takes a deep breath, watching her as she shivers against the cold, and takes pity on her, as if he’s not completely hopeless anyway.

“Still going on that date or what?”

She nods and her smile gets brighter as she falls into his side, and yeah… he’s a goner.

* * *

He is completely and utterly destroyed when she comes to him the night before her eighteenth birthday with the most ridiculous, batshit crazy and undeniably _Casey_ request she has probably ever come up with.

She sits primly on his bed, hands folded in her lap, and looks straight at him, silently waiting while he takes off his headphones and swivels in his chair so he’s angled in her direction.

“Uh… yes?” he attempts gingerly.

“You might know that I have a plan, Derek,” she jumps right into it.

“You? A plan?” he snickers.

She ignores him. “And my eighteenth birthday is supposed to be a turning point for me.”

“Okay…” Derek says, a sense of dread already building in his guts.

“I’ve planned this day for years, it’s going to be perfect. It’ll be my passage from my teens to adulthood - from girlhood to _womanhood_ …” Casey drifts off, looking off in the distance, somewhere above his head.

Derek finds a way to choke on his own saliva. “Wo-” coughs “-womanhood?”

“Yes, Derek. Eighteen means I’m going to be a _woman_ , and I want that day to be _special_ ,” she says, training her eyes on him seriously.

“What do you mean… exactly?” he asks, carefully. He doesn’t want to believe where he thinks she’s going with this, because it’s scaring the shit out of him.

She sighs. “I’m losing my virginity tomorrow,” she announces, like it’s going to happen with or _without_ him.

He temporarily forgets how to breathe.

“You’re saying you’re, um…” he tries stupidly.

Casey rolls her eyes. “Of course, I am.”

“And you want me to…” he drifts off.

“I want you to be my first,” she says, her voice softening as she shrugs shyly. She has no idea what she’s doing to him, does she?

If he doesn’t die of asphyxiation, he’s definitely going to have a heart attack.

“O-kay…?” he hears himself say. God, he sounds like such an _idiot_. He’s supposed to be _Derek Venturi_ , suave and in control, not… whatever kind of _dumbass_ he’s being right now.

“Are you prepared?” she jumps back into serious mode.

“Uh…” he frowns, confused.

“I mean, do you have protection?” she says.

“Yeah,” he squeaks.

She nods, somewhat pleased. “Great.”

Then the door is closing behind her and Derek is left having no clue what the fuck just happened.

* * *

Pacing his room back and forth, Derek attempts to wrap his mind around what’s going to happen now that the cake has been served, the candles have been blown and the gifts have been unwrapped.

It’s late at night, but he’s still feeling the cake stuck somewhere down his oesophagus. She’s barely spoken to him all day and maybe she changed her mind. Part of him kind of hopes she did, because who knows what she’s expecting, and what if he doesn’t live up to those expectations?

Sure, he kind of knows what he’s doing, but _Casey_ ’s idea of sex? She’s probably picturing earth shattering orgasms and fireworks and who knows what else she reads in her cheesy romance novels. He _does_ enjoy sex, but even he knows it’s not all _that_. What if she’s disappointed or decides that she doesn’t like sex and she decides to blame him and-

“Hey.”

He almost jumps when she interrupts his crazy downwards spiral of hysteria, and turns to find her shutting the door behind her with a small smile on her face. “Hey,” he croaks.

Her hair is flowing straight down over her shoulder like it had been all day, but she’s taken off her makeup and changed into her cozy sleeping shorts and tank top.

She’s beautiful.

His hands are itching to touch her, but he waits for her to make the first move, because she has to be _sure_.

She walks over to him and stops a few inches away, taking in his appearance. He’s made an effort, because he knows Casey’s _grading him_ on this, and anything out of place might be enough for her to kick him to the curb without so much as a kiss goodbye. He’s aware that he’s maybe a bit pathetic, but hey, at least he _knows_.

Her eyes travel from his lightly tousled hair and down his face, lingering on his neck as she takes in the smell of his cologne. She takes a step forward, one hand coming up to his chest as she observes his outfit, a soft green button down and black slacks, nothing too fancy, but nice enough that she smiles in approbation.

When her gaze flicks back up to his, her pupils are large and dilated, and there’s _something_ deep in there, a _want_ , a _need_ , that he’s never seen before. He gulps, unsure if he can take the intensity of it, but then her hand is moving slowly up his torso, brushing gently against his throat until it rests against his cheek, and he’s leaning into it. He _wants_ and _needs_ just as much.

Before their lips touch, he grips her shoulder to stop her movement. “Are you sure about this?” he whispers.

“Yes,” she nods, and presses her mouth to his gently. Her body automatically moves forward to mold into his, and his arms wrap around her to hold her close. She opens up to him, letting their tongues touch, as her own arms circle his neck, bringing him down lower.

It’s like a ripple effect; her heels hit the ground and her tongue hits deep in his throat, causing him to groan loudly, then their hands are clawing at each other desperately as they try to get closer, closer, _closer_. Their breathing speeds up fast, gasping loudly between increasingly erratic kissing. His feet start moving on their own, guiding them towards the bed until they fall, Casey on her back beneath him. She moans against his mouth.

She’s wiggling, trying to move up to settle comfortably on the bed, breaking up their kiss with her fidgeting. Undeterred, Derek moves down her throat, sucking and licking until she’s a helpless puddle under his touch. She goes practically limp, allowing him to settle properly on top of her, crawling up her form until he’s cradled between her legs, his hips pressing down hard into her core.

He hears her muttered gasp, and knows she can feel him through his pants. His erection is squeezed between their bodies and the soft friction is divine. He’s already anticipating what it will feel like to be inside of her, the wet and warm place he’s been dreaming about for months - _years_ , if he’s being honest. It has never felt so attainable to him before.

She’s moving under him, rolling her hips, grinding up against him as her sneaky fingers mess up his hair.

“Derek,” she whispers sweetly, panting hard

He hums in response, his mouth too busy tasting her skin, as his hands roam over her body. His fingertips brush against her exposed stomach, palms flattening as his hands caress up her form, up her ribcage and over her breasts. They fit fully into his hands and he squeezes firmly, the way she likes it, eliciting a groan from the girl beneath him.

She moans and grabs his face, bringing him back to her mouth hungrily. Her arms wrapping around his neck prompt his own to wrap around her waist, squishing every tiny bit of space between their chests. They’re so close like this, holding on so tightly, he thinks they’re about to melt into each other.

Nothing, _nothing_ could have ever prepared him for what she says next.

“Derek,” she pants in his ear, “make love to me.”

And he’s fucking gone. _Adios_ Derek! Out the door goes his sanity and any rational thought. He practically growls, tears away from her long enough to pull that offensive tank top off of her, exposing her hard nipples to his eager, eager mouth.

She sobs, holds his head against her chest as she writhes under him. He’s rocking his hips back and forth, grinding his hard-on against the front of her shorts, wishing them away this instant.

Pulling away again, he sits back on his heels this time, panting hard, and looks down at her reverently. Her chest is heaving, her eyelids heavy with lust, and she’s so fucking gorgeous. He can’t believe she’s even letting him touch her like this. She’s way out of his league, he knows this. But he’s not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Especially when it has the form of his (horny, half naked, _forbidden_ ) step-sister in his bed. 

Within seconds, her shorts come off, and she’s completely exposed, pretty pink pussy glistening in the soft light of his bedroom. His vision is cut off when she closes her legs shyly, causing him to hurriedly grab her knees to push them apart.

“Hey,” he mutters, “it’s okay.”

He leans forward, resuming his position on top of her. He looks into her eyes, kisses her soundly until she relaxes. “It’s okay.”

He’s got one reassuring hand cradling her head as his fingers play in her hair, and another drifting down her side, to her hip, to her middle, until it’s pressed against her heated center. He rubs his palm up and down her sex, spreading the large lips with his fingers as he goes down, until she’s grinding up against his hand, sighing into his mouth.

The pressure in his pants is increasingly uncomfortable and the back of his shirt is damp and sticking against his skin, urging him to take it _off_ , right now. She whines a little when he pulls away again, the sweetest sound he’s ever heard.

Then his shirt is off, his pants are next, and he’s probably grinning like an idiot, because he’s so happy, overjoyed, fucking _blessed_ , that he’s about to make love to her, that she wants him like he wants her, and it’s honestly the best day of his life.

Once he’s scurried out of his pants and underwear, he’s back on her, kissing her sweetly, heatedly, until she’s clawing at his back, lifting her hips up towards him eagerly. His tip hits her center in the motion, bringing his attention to how very naked they are. With just a little push, he can just-

“Der,” Casey gasps, “condom. Now.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He’s not going to make her wait, going straight for his drawer, coming up with an empty wrapper first -get rid of that shit _immediately_ , you fucking idiot- and throwing it away in favour of a new one. He does that thing where he opens it with his teeth, a valuable life skill that he has honed, and watches as she actually shivers at his action.

She stops his hand halfway, eyes wide as she looks down at his dick, licking her lips. “Can I do it?”

“Fuck yeah,” he says, letting her take the condom in her small hand. She smiles, biting her lip. She reaches out to stroke him, making him groan. “ _Fuck_ , Case.”

His eyes close against the feeling of her hand wrapped tightly around his cock. It’s so _good_ he almost wants to cry. He doesn’t want to know how many times she’s done this before, but it’s obvious that she has, because she jerks him off so expertly that he’s about to come if he doesn’t stop her.

He wraps his hand around her small wrist to stop her movement, allowing himself to breathe deeply before opening his eyes again. She’s looking straight at him, a deep blush on her cheeks. “Slow down,” he whispers, a small smirk growing on his face as the irony occurs to him.

The hand holding the condom finds its way to her face, as she bites the nail of her thumb. “Sorry,” she says, unrepentant.

Okay, so maybe she _does_ know what she’s doing to him.

“ _Sure_ you are,” he shoots back, leaning down to capture her mouth in a searing kiss. “Why don’t you put this thing on me so I can make your birthday wish come true, baby.”

She _quivers_. 

“First, don’t call me _baby_ ,” she says unconvincingly, right as she lowers her other hand to his soaring erection, effectively pushing the condom down on him. “Second, you _wish_ I wasted my birthday wish on _you_.”

Sucking on his teeth, he decides to call her bluff, taking hold of both her wrists and pinning them above her head, as he presses his body down on hers enticingly. “You sure? You didn’t blow your candles wishing you were blowing mine?”

“De-rek!” she whines, scrunching her face up as she pathetically attempts to break free from his hold.

Chuckling, he doubles down, brushing his lips on hers as he squeezes her wrists harder. “You said you’ve planned this for years, right? Just been pining for me this whole time, haven’t you… _baby_?”

Her breath tickles his neck, coming out in harsh little pants. “Derek,” she says as evenly as she can, failing to focus her glare on him. “Just shut up and _do me_ , okay?”

It’s the way she says it, how she can utter those desperate words with so much contempt in her voice, it’s making his blood boil, his skin vibrate, and other _things_ twitch with arousal. His hips roll down involuntarily, pressing down heavily into her. Her hands ball into fists and her eyes flutter shut as she lets out a soft moan in response.

“Fine,” he whispers, his voice coming out low and raspy. _As you wish_.

She looks so delicious, hair splayed messily around her head, lips slightly parted, her chest rising up and down with her sharp, uneven breaths. Her legs are holding him down tightly so he can’t escape even if he wanted to.

Which he most certainly _doesn’t_. Obviously.

Letting go of her wrists, he rests his forearms down on each side of her head, allowing her to drape her arms around his neck to bring him down to her, burying his face into her neck. He breathes in her scent, vanilla lotion and wild berry shampoo, driving him absolutely crazy. He can’t take it anymore, pushing in and relishing in the tightness surrounding him as he goes slowly deeper.

She takes him all in easily, her pussy so wet he slips right in, with a sharp intake of breath when he’s finally buried fully inside of her. He pauses, pressing his lips to the shell of her ear as he waits for his limbs to stop trembling. “You okay?” he asks.

He doesn’t see her response so much as he feels her nod against his shoulder. She’s muffling her soft cries into his skin, her arms and legs tightening their crisp hold on him even more, possibly attempting to fuse their skin together. He’s far from complaining, he’s in the only place he ever wants to be, surrounded by her warmth and smell, and he’s starting to think fireworks might be possible after all.

She pushes her hips up against his, indicating her desire for him to move. There’s not much room to work with, but he pushes back, allowing some friction as his dick moves, grazing the inside of her walls.

“Oh, fuck,” he groans.

“Mmmm,” she responds eagerly.

He lifts himself up slightly, wanting to see her face. Her head is thrown back and her eyes shut tight, lips slightly parted, as she seemingly takes in the feeling of his gentle thrusting. She looks so cute with the serious frown on her face, he has to fight to suppress a smile, deciding to distract himself from the fluttering in his belly by kissing her lips.

It doesn’t really help to settle his nerves, because now there’s _feelings_ pouring out from his mouth, pulled out of him by the pressure of her lips and he doesn’t know what to do about it. It’s rendering him useless, a babbling mess, desperately gasping for air.

“Casey…” he moans her name, to somehow reaffirm his grip on reality. She opens her eyes, and he gets lost, the deep blue oceans there dragging him in, doesn’t know which side is up and what is real beyond the words that tumble out of him like an avalanche. “I- I love you.”

Her eyes grow wide and, for a fraction of a second, she looks _terrified_. He's about to apologize, preparing for being kicked in painful places when she smashes their mouths together again, letting him taste salty tears on her lips.

“Der…" she practically sobs, now squeezing his cheeks between her hands as she drops kisses all over his face. "I love you."

She's gyrating her hips, meeting his thrusts with her own, while she hangs onto his mouth, biting gently on his bottom lip.

"Nnng ahhhh," she gasps when he picks up the pace, growing breathless.

He's on another plane of existence entirely, one where there's a goddess in his arms professing her love for him, where he is kept warm by satin skin and every inch of him is being covered, held and adored.

All he hears are her lovely little sighs and the affection in her voice when she whispers his name.

Her walls constrict around him, and a delightful wave of undiluted _pleasure_ jolts through his body. He’s barely holding himself up on his own, leaning his forehead against hers. His fingers catch onto stray strands of her hair as he grabs onto the comforter

"Fu-" he groans, increasing the speed of his thrusts, seeking out more of that delicious feeling. "Ca-sey."

"Der- aaaaah," she moans, her hands moving to grab his shoulders tightly, her nails digging into his skin. She’s getting dangerously louder, prompting him to move his hand over her mouth, shushing her. 

“Be quiet, Case,” he whispers.

It's all _so much_ that he feels like he's going to burst, the telltale sign of his building orgasm in the tightening of his balls. Pushing his free hand between them, he pushes his fingers against her clitoris (he's pretty sure that's where it is - if her reaction is anything to go by), fully intent on bringing her over the edge with him.

His movements aren’t as deft as he wants them to be, rendered sloppy by his erratic thrusting. She whimpers all the same, blowing hot breath into his palm.

She's holding onto his wrist against her face and her nails bite into it, while she throws her head back, her body and limbs trembling in delight. Her moan echoes from deep down her throat, and he can feel it vibrating through him, pulling one last shuddering breath out of him before he forgets how. That's when he lets go.

He feels his himself pulsing inside of her as he comes, pure relief overcoming him, like he's finally satisfied his all-consuming hunger. His hips still with his final thrust, hitting deep, and he watches her eyes snapping wide open as his hand slips from her mouth, allowing a sweet whine to pass her red, red lips.

She's blinking fast, panting hard, as a lone tear slips from the corner of her eye, and down her cheek. He's about to panic, ask her if he hurt her, when a wide smile bursts on her face and she finds her voice again.

"Oh. My. God," she says between gasping breaths, chuckling.

And fuck, if he didn't already know he was in love, he'd think his racing heart exploding in his chest might be an indicator.

He's temporarily incapable of speech, only barely able to return her infectious laugh. He hides his smile into her hair, his arms embracing her, and relaxes, allowing himself to enjoy this moment.

It's everything he never thought it could be, this feeling of long awaited completion, rightness and _joy_. Something like happiness.

He is _content_.

"Casey," he whispers, "I love you."

Her arms tighten around him, crushing him against her, and he feels it, her heart beating against his.

"I love you too."

* * *

It feels like hours later when he finally pushes himself off of her, and he catches her around the waist when she attempts to sneak out of bed.

"Hey, where are you going?" Derek says against the shell of her ear.

"I have to get back to my room, Der," Casey groans, but relaxes in his arms.

She sighs happily when his mouth gets to work on her neck, and he relishes in the goosebumps that rise across her skin. "No, you don’t."

His efforts are interrupted when she turns suddenly, setting her sharp, demanding eyes on his. "Did you mean it?" she asks without preamble. 

For once, just this once, he decides he’s not dumb enough to act like he doesn’t know what she’s asking for.

"I meant it," he nods, lowering his face close to hers. "I mean it."

* * *

He's done something good for once. He doesn't know _what_ he did, but he did it right, because she allows him to touch her again after that.

It's mostly in his bed, or in hers, but also once in the Prince (until she refuses to ever do that again because "ouch, _my neck_!") and on the couch that one time everyone leaves to watch a movie and he's able to convince her somehow.

Contrary to what he would normally anticipate out of something like this, it's really not all about sex either. There are moments, most of them completely innocent and _cliché_ , that he enjoys more.

Like when she falls asleep with her head on his shoulder while watching a movie alone in his room, and her features are so relaxed and open, he thinks she might really trust him.

He’s been in love before, even somewhat recently, so he knows what this is. He just hadn’t anticipated to feel it again so soon. The thing is though, this doesn’t feel at all like something new or anything that snuck up on him out of nowhere. It feels more like a logical continuity to something that was always there. 

As far as he’s concerned, adding the words _love_ and _sex_ in the context of their relationship doesn’t actually change much.

Except now, she can coerce him into actually _studying_ for finals, and taking things seriously, like making him apply for college, by dangling the promise of sex like a carrot in front of a donkey. He realizes he’s the donkey in that analogy - also that he somehow knows the meaning of the word ‘ _analogy_ ’ - and it’s all because of her, but he can’t help it if she gives a really good handjob.

They still argue over every stupid thing, though. She nags him about cleaning up after himself, the dishes, or his unhealthy eating habits. But sometimes, they argue about less stupid things too...

* * *

“De-rek!”

He winces when the front door slams shut so hard that his window shakes. Taking off his headphones, he waits patiently for her to appear at his door.

Casey comes in surrounded by an unmistakable cloud of frustration that lets him know he won’t get out of it easily, and he definitely won’t get laid tonight no matter how well he maneuvers himself out of whatever trouble he’s put himself in this time.

“Care to explain yourself?” she seethes as she towers over him, hands solidly planted on her hips.

“I…” Derek tries to juggle his memory, but he really doesn’t know what she could be pissed about, so he decides to wing it. “I didn’t mean to?”

Casey huffs, stomping her foot in irritation. “Emily said that Sam told her that _you told him_ that you’re not going to the prom?!”

“Uh…” he drifts off, a hand coming up to rub the back of his neck in discomfort. “I’m not?”

“What do you mean _you’re not_?” she says, her voice hitting that high note that threatens to pierce his eardrums. “It’s our Senior Prom, De-rek!”

“What does it matter, anyway? It’s not like I can take you,” he says, gesturing towards her.

She crosses her arms over her chest defensively. “We can find a way around it.”

“Case,” Derek sighs, passing his hand through his hair. He’s not stupid, he knows this kind of thing is Casey _catnip_ and trying to convince her is probably a losing battle. It just doesn’t have much appeal to him if he can’t even take his girlfriend out in the open. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but it’s not that much fun if we have to sneak around at our own prom.”

Her shoulders drop slightly, but visibly, and he thinks she just might be getting it.

“Well,” she starts slowly, and shrugs. “Maybe we don’t have to sneak around.”

He frowns, taken by surprise. Whenever he’d mention coming out before, she’d cower in shame, recoil on herself until he had no choice but to drop it. But this time _she_ ’s the one bringing it up, and he doesn’t pretend not to listen this time around.

Getting up slowly from his chair, he advances on her, his height now towering over _her_ , while she fidgets in her spot, trying to keep herself still so she’s not shying away from him too obviously. She knows what her words did to him.

“Elaborate?” Derek asks cautiously, knowing she’ll bounce at any chance she gets. He’s inches from her now, peering into her eyes to make sure she understands that she has his full attention.

Casey licks her lips before pressing them together tightly. He knows that face she’s making; she’s regretting it already. “We could…” she drifts off, looking around nervously for a lifeline. She’s cowering again.

“Nobody will think much of it if we have one dance between brother and sister,” Casey says, very quickly, like if she says it as fast as possible he won’t notice _what_ she just said. 

She can’t hold his gaze, so she turns around, reaching for the shirt falling out of his drawer, folding it neatly before shoving it back in.

He thinks his jaw might break for how hard he’s gritting his teeth, and he won’t - _can’t_ \- go off on her because who knows when she’ll decide she’s had enough of him.

And no, he has no idea when he just _accepted_ that on-again off-again situation, being yanked around like a yoyo, like some sort of… _Sam_. It’s really no offense to his best friend, but he doesn’t have the best track record with handling Casey at her craziest, so it’s kind of a shock when Derek finds himself in the same situation, after priding himself on knowing her so well this whole time.

Damn his fucking _feelings_ (and his _dick_ ) for allowing her to get such a tight grip on him. She has him wrapped around her little _finger_.

At this point, all he can do is rub his palm over his forehead and try to contain the headache. He knew she’d be a handful from the start, and he’s still ready to live with that, but it doesn’t mean he has to roll over every single time.

“Look, as enticing as a romantic evening with my _sister_ is, I think I’ll sit this one out,” he says. It’s as combative as he’s willing to get about the issue.

“Der-” she argues weakly, turning around to face him and attempt to grab his hands. He avoids her touch, pushing his hands in his pockets.

“I get it,” he says, “I know you have that perfect picture in your head of what Prom is gonna be like, and... You know what, I kinda want that too.”

She gives him a pained look, and he knows she’s wondering _why then_ , why he won’t just give that to her and it can just be between them - nobody else has to know. And he kind of finds it funny how she can overlook the fact that _that is exactly_ the problem. 

There’s nothing attractive about showing up with his sister on his arm. A part of him is hoping that she doesn’t want to feed into that image of them either, because… well because he is _not_ dating his damn sister. 

“I’m just… done pretending, I guess,” he shrugs aimlessly. “The brother and sister act, it’s getting old, Case.”

“I-“ she chokes out. It’s a sad little squeak, interrupted by a sob, consequently followed by sniffling. “I’m not ready, Derek.”

He’s so _weak_ , the sight of her face scrunched up like that, all torn up and sad, makes him want to wrap her in a soft blanket and shield her from the world. He’s pretty sure his eyes are reflecting the same sadness she has in hers when he reaches out for her, giving in, because _fuck it_ , and wraps his arms tightly around her. “I know,” he says quietly into her hair. “And I’m not saying we should be out in the open right away. I just don’t want to go to prom just to spend the whole time pretending.”

“But,” she says right into his heart, “if we don’t even do _that_ , we’ll miss out.”

Sometimes, he sincerely wishes that he didn’t _get her_ so much. Because, okay, it’s so stupid to him. He didn’t really care until she crashed into his room and made a big deal out of it. He could go on happily without going to the stupid prom and second guessing their entire relationship in the process. But he knows that _she_ can’t. To Casey, this is a stepping stone, an important brick to lay on the foundation of their future. Every step is like a ritual, and skipping on prom is equivalent to skipping on a first date, a first kiss, heck, a honeymoon. Having this intimate knowledge of the way she thinks makes it hard to stay indifferent.

“I’ll think about it, okay?” Derek says.

She nods and rests her lips on the side of his neck in a gentle kiss, against his racing pulse. Sometimes he wishes that she didn’t know all of _his_ soft spots.

* * *

In an uncharacteristic move, she doesn’t nag him about it afterwards. He doesn’t bring it up either, which takes them to the night of the event, without a single follow up conversation on the subject.

In the crack of her door, he watches her pull her hair up in that complicated hairstyle with purpose. When she’s done applying her makeup, she lets out a quiet sigh and looks sadly at her reflection like she’s not satisfied with what she sees. The moment passes, he sees the exact second she forces herself to brush it off, and she applies one more layer of lip gloss.

Once ready, she turns and meets his eye in the doorway. She smiles and brushes past him.

It’s not like he didn’t think about it like he’d promised. He did, it even kept him up at night. He just… put off making an actual decision until the last minute like he was prone to do.

She looks back at him wistfully from the staircase, lowers her gaze and moves on down the stairs, probably wishing he was standing there, waiting at the bottom. Then he hears the wheels of the limo slide against the pavement, and he feels like a complete jerk.

Less than thirty minutes after she left, his heart - yes it’s still there, _who knew_? - feels so constricted, like it’s being squeezed from the inside, that he can’t ignore it anymore. He replays in his head the moment she looked at him at the top of the stairs, and he knows that not only has she been _really patient_ with him, as much as she can be, but also that he let her down.

He’s practically pulling his hair out at how cliché it is, but he knows he has to make a run for it. Sifting through his closet for the nicest thing he owns, he pulls out the button down she got him for Christmas that he never wore, before scampering out.

He stops at the red light, even though his foot is anxious to get back on the pedal. Really, he does it for her, because what good is he if he ends up in the hospital? He’d never hear the end of it.

When he arrives at the front of the school, he parks and turns off the engine. He doesn’t leave the car for a long time, just leaning his head back as he observes the seemingly quiet building from afar. The gym is in the back area of the school, so he can’t see or hear anything from the parking lot.

It’s not _nerves_ that keep him away for so long. Or - okay, maybe it is. But it can't be that easy to blame him considering he’s about to make a complete fool of himself. He’s never been the _grand gesture_ kind of guy, yet here he is, about to step into Casey’s teen rom com fantasy. He’s gotta get some credit for at least _showing up._

The most excruciating part is that he can anticipate the crowd splitting up in the middle, opening the path leading up to her, and there will be an extra cheesy song playing, like _‘Kiss Me’_ or something, as he’ll make his way to her basically in slow motion.

He wants to _gag._

At some point, he just figures, _fuck it_ , he’s _here_. He’s not going to stay in the car the whole night like a loser, and going back home now would be an even bigger failure on his part. So he finally gets out of the car and makes his way towards the school. As he gets closer, he can hear the music coming faintly from the gym. It’s some stupid bubble gum pop song that Casey would love.

He stops at the bottom of the steps when the door opens and Casey rushes out, grumbling and fussing with the bottom of her dress. It’s ripped off. “Just had to take the stairs…” she mumbles to herself.

“Case?”

She stops dead when she hears him. “Derek?”

“What- what happened?” He says dumbly, pointing at her dress.

“I, uh,” she looks down at the shredded fabric before shrugging. “I humiliated myself again. What do you think?” She smiles tightly, self deprecatingly, but continues down the stairs to find him. “What are you doing here?” 

“I was, um, I thought...“

Her tight lipped smile relaxes as she watches him struggle, and when he can’t find his words again, she just laughs, shaking her head. “You decided to come through after all.”

“Yeah, well, I had to see what all the fuss was about.”

She grins at him. “My very own Prince Charming.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he rolls his eyes, but reaches out for her hips all the same. “What kind of Princess wears rags to the ball, anyway?”

She swats at him playfully. “I stepped on my dress and almost fell down the stairs! I could have died!”

“And I missed this?” He teases.

“De-rek!” She whines, pushing away from him.

He keeps his hold on her. “Hey,” he says, grinning, “I thought I could convince you to save me a dance?”

She looks back at the school painfully. “I don’t feel like going back in there.”

“Then let’s dance here,” Derek says, pulling her away from the steps down the walkway, underneath the lamp post. She giggles and holds onto his shoulders to keep her balance. He can’t make out the song playing inside, but he hears just enough that he can sway them gently side to side with some kind of rhythm.

“You keep surprising me, Venturi,” she says softly, almost under her breath, as she lets him take the lead. Her eyes haven’t left his, like she’s trying to read something in them.

“I could say the same about you, McDonald,” he whispers back, one hand coming up to cup the side of her face, brushing the pad of his thumb against her cheek. He lets her in, keeps the door open for her to find everything she’s looking for, he’s all hers either way.

She leans forward, kisses him gently, like a _thank you_ , and presses her forehead against his. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“I did,” he says, shaking his head. “I don’t want to skip any steps.”

“It’s just the stupid prom,” she laughs, looking down with a blush on her face.

“It’s not stupid,” he says, and wraps his arms tightly around her waist, hugging her close. “You were right, we shouldn’t miss out on this.”

“Dancing in front of the school without music?” she retorts as she re-adjusts her hold around his neck, letting her head fall onto his shoulder.

“Yeah.”

“I know you don’t care about this stuff.”

“I care about you.”

At this point, he doesn’t have anything to hide. He’s said it all, let his walls crumble and opened himself up for her to pluck and keep anything that she liked. And so far, she looks like she’ll keep _him_ , so he’s pretty much okay with the silly, romantic stuff.

The thing is, he’d do anything for her. He knows this now, knows that nothing - not the strength of his own feelings, nor the threat of their parent’s disapproval - can scare him away. So in the end, whatever she wants to throw at him, any crazy, neurotic thing she’ll have him do, it’s all worth it. Because he’s never felt stronger than when he’s with her.

“Three years ago, you were pushing me down the stairs,” Casey says, breaking the silence after a while.

“I did not _push_ you,” Derek says indignantly

“It was just as if,” Casey says, looking up at him with a silly grin.

“Actually,” he says, slipping on a smirk when he realizes that she’s teasing, “you fell because you had a crush on _Sam_.”

She gasps, pulling away to slap his chest flirtatiously. “I didn’t even _know_ Sam!”

“Plus, you’ve always been pretty uncoordinated,” he adds.

“Nuh uh.”

Derek grins at her, she’s just too adorable. “Was there even a point to you bringing this up?”

“A lot has changed in three years.” Casey shrugs, shooting him a meaningful look.

“I guess you’re right,” he says, his hand coming up to play with her hair.

“And I was thinking….” she says, shifting her arms from his neck down to wrap around his waist, pressing herself into his chest. “Maybe it wouldn’t be _so_ bad if we told someone.”

There’s a beat, and for a second he can’t move, can’t breathe, doesn’t know how to react - doesn’t know if he can allow himself to get his hopes up again without risking serious internal damage - because maybe - _maybe_ she’d do anything for him too.

“Really?” he says, letting out a shaky breath as he resumes stroking her hair.

She looks up from her spot where her cheek is resting against his heart, probably listening to it beating like a drum. “I’m getting used to the idea.”

He pulls her in tighter, and she nuzzles into his neck.

It’s cold. The music’s changed to a slow song so calm he can barely hear it. It’s quiet, and with Casey in his arms and the peaceful rise and fall of her chest against his, Derek thinks it’s the kind of quiet he could get used to.

* * *

  
  


∞

  
  
  
  



End file.
